


Zombies Are a Girl’s Best Friend

by Jennifer-Oksana (JenniferOksana)



Category: Angel: the Series, Arrested Development
Genre: Comedy, Crack, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Dating, Episode Style, F/M, Het, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-20 23:03:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6028707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferOksana/pseuds/Jennifer-Oksana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lindsay’s best friend comes back from the dead and starts dating Michael, which would be great…except Gob and Lucille think she’s a zombie lawyer with a sinister agenda.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zombies Are a Girl’s Best Friend

Lindsay’s best friend was a high-powered corporate attorney named Lilah Morgan. They’d become best friends in college, when Lindsay had caught Lilah adding a special ingredient (LSD) to the punch at the Delta Delta Zeta sorority mixer. Lindsay had broken out her stock of Percocet for the cause, and the resulting party had cemented their friendship forever when Lilah and Lindsay’s archrival Dana Robertson had been caught doing a striptease for several university trustees…without any of the punch.

“I was originally planning that for you,” Lilah confessed as she passed Lindsay a flask of tequila as they watched the carnage ensue from a safe distance with high-powered binoculars. “Sorry. Didn’t realize you could hold your liquor.”

“It’s fine,” Lindsay replied, taking a swig before handing it back to Lilah with two tablets of Vicodin. “I was going to tell the Honor Board you’ve been sleeping with Professor Hamilton in order to steal his test keys and sell them to frat row, but now we’re friends. No harm, no foul.”

The two women shook hands and went back to watching the cops ruin reputation after reputation of the girls of Delta Delta Zeta house, several professors, and at least one local politician.

A beautiful friendship born that night had lasted well over a decade, through late-night drunken experimentation, marriages, scandals, and both Lilah and Lindsay trying and failing to date Johnny Depp’s publicist. Unfortunately, it had ended the year before when Lilah had apparently died in a freak beheading accident involving an axe, her two-timing British boyfriend, and a great deal of happenings that reminded Gob never to use actual axes when cutting people in half.

“Oh, my God,” Lindsay had wailed one morning at breakfast, watching the local news. “Lilah’s dead…and damn, her boyfriend was hot. Remind me to ask him over for dinner to ease his grief, the cheating allegedly axe-murdering Brit bastard.”

Unfortunately, Lindsay had been quickly distracted by charity fundraisers and the troubles of her life, and so, a year later, she’d more or less forgotten that Lilah had died when Lilah, looking tanned, toned, and hotter than ever, showed up at the Bluth house one sunny Sunday morning.

“Hi,” George Michael said, opening the door and staring at the model-sexy woman in the black halter top, Prada sunglasses, and Armani jeans. “Can I help you?”

Lilah looked at George Michael with some confusion, taking off her sunglasses. “Aren’t you supposed to be a girl?” she asked, making a face. “I swear Lindsay told me you were a girl. But I guess with a name like Maeby, it’s not your fault…”

“Um, Maeby’s my cousin,” George Michael said, blushing. “I’m George Michael. Are you looking for Aunt Lindsay?”

“Yes,” Lilah said, tossing her head. “In fact, can I just come in? I want to surprise her.”

George Michael, still a little flustered that Lilah had thought he was Maeby, nodded and let her in. Lilah cheerfully patted him on the head, and George Michael, whose head was usually full of Maeby, noticed that Aunt Lindsay’s friend Lilah had extremely nice breasts.

“Be a good boy and get my bag, okay?” she said, heading straight for the dining room, where Lindsay, Michael, and Tobias were having a relatively peaceful breakfast. George Michael was happy to oblige.

“I don’t understand why you think a new wardrobe won’t be helpful,” Lindsay told Michael, taking a swig of mimosa. “If I’m going to pursue a new career path, then I’m…oh my God, Lilah! Your head’s on straight! And you’re alive!”

“No thanks to this town,” Lilah replied with a lopsided grin. “Lindsay! You look absolutely fabulous, considering. How are you?”

“Good…” Lindsay said, stunned that her best friend was back from the dead and wearing the exact Dolce and Gabbana halter top that she’d been lusting after for two weeks. “But you…are a world of not dead. I thought your boyfriend got all chop-choppy! I missed the funeral, but I had a benefit for all those victims of the Beast and it wasn’t like I got an invitation….”

“Lindsay, Lindsay, don’t worry,” Lilah said extravagantly as George Michael tugged a large black suitcase past Michael. “Reports of my demise were…well, not hugely exaggerated, but let’s say they were a little confused? And now I’m back and I haven’t felt this great in years. And, hello. Who’s this, Lindsay?”

Michael looked up to realize that Lindsay’s friend Lilah was looking at him with definite interest. This wasn’t quite as disturbing as he’d expected; in fact, he was rather enjoying the smile and the implied interest held in it.

“This is my brother, Michael. Michael, this is Lilah Morgan,” Lindsay said, still flustered. Michael reached out and shook Lilah’s hand, who returned the favor before turning back to Lindsay.

“Wow,” Lilah said. “Why didn’t you tell me your third brother was **nothing** like Gob and Buster?”

“Well, I…” and Lindsay shrugged, “After what happened with Gob…and with Buster….and with Dad….you told me Bluth men were poison and if we wanted to stay friends, no more family mixing, remember?”

And indeed, what had happened between Lilah, Buster, Gob, and George Sr. was a story that Lindsay and Lilah had sworn never to make public, as it had been a disastrous evening on the family yacht starting with Buster’s first attempt to hit on a girl not explicitly approved of by his mother.

“Wow, the sea is really….black,” Buster said, trying to stand within five feet of Lilah on the yacht. “You’re pretty.”

“Thanks,” Lilah had said, taking a drink of bourbon. “Bubba? Is that your name? Buster? I can’t keep you guys straight. So you’re the youngest one, right?”

Lilah was a practical girl, and the concept of being a Bluth trophy wife, while somewhat degrading, had its benefits. And, like most women, she could recognize the stench of whipped when she saw it, and Buster wore it like cheap perfume, having been Lucille’s most faithful son since birth.

“Yeah,” Buster said, surprising she hadn’t threatened him with a restraining order like the rest of Lindsay’s friends. “I mean, your hair is…neat. And you’re super…tall. I think that’s great.”

“Do you?” Lilah asked flirtatiously, and that was when Buster’s stomach overwhelmed him. He was quickly sick all over Lilah’s first pair of Jimmy Choo pumps, which Lilah loved more than her own father. “You [BLEEEEEP]! Those are Jimmy [BLEEEP] Choos! What the [bleep], you sick…get away from me! Go, you incompetent [BLEEEP] mama’s boy!”

Buster had never quite gotten over his crush Lilah after that; her mix of sudden rage, commanding histrionics, and coolly superior self-esteem had reminded him of Lucille, and he had wept real tears to discover the lawyer had died in a freak accident. In fact, he had nearly had a run-in with the new head of Wolfram and Hart when he’d gone to leave flowers at the door of her office and threaten the boyfriend.

“Who the **hell** was that?” Mr. Angel had asked his secretary, watching Buster run out of the building, tripping several times before he actually escaped just in front of security.

“Buster Bluth,” Harmony the secretary said. “You know, the Bluths? Real estate moguls in Orange County. I think he was in love with Lilah….cuz you always want to marry the girl just like the girl who dominated dear old dad.”

Of course, no one knew this besides Buster. All Michael knew was that Lilah looked like one of Lindsay’s saner friends, and was less scary than the last three women he’d tried to date. This wasn’t saying much, but it was a start.

“So you’re back in town?” Michael asked after swallowing his orange juice, remembering that he’d always liked the sound of Lindsay’s putative best friend. Lawyer, self-made, workaholic, had turned Gob down flat and knocked him on his ass when Gob had asked if Lilah and Lindsay had ever gotten a little girl-on-girl?

“Yes, I’m back and better than ever,” Lilah said, sitting down next to Michael. “I spent six months tanning in some toasty-hot southern regions and let me tell you, I’m through with heat waves! But on the plus side, I’ve got the body of a twenty-five-year old now, and it’s something to behold when I’m all done up.”

Lindsay and Michael laughed appreciatively, not quite getting it. “I bet that crazy boyfriend of yours will be so jealous,” Lindsay said. “What was his name, Wesley? What a bastard.”

Lilah’s face darkened slightly. “Yes, Wesley,” she said. “Actually, I’m kind of avoiding him, because the last thing I need in my life are sexy, scruffy British men who are great at [BLEEP], no matter how much they also know how to shoot, fence, and drive a sports car at 100 miles an hour while [BLEEP]. You know?”

Tobias, bug-eyed, coughed. Lindsay blinked, off-put by Lilah’s lengthy description of her ex’s sexual prowess, and then smiled as if she hadn’t been.

“Yeah, hate that kind of guy,” she said. “We’ll just have to find you someone cute and sane.”

“I’m sure we’ll have no problem,” Lilah said, flashing Michael a toothy grin. “Now, tell me all about what’s going on with your family, because I’m here for the Bluth family.”

* * *

It wasn’t long after that when Lindsay found out just why Lilah was there for the Bluth family. As usual with Lilah, there was a personal reason involved with the generosity.

“I want to date your brother,” Lilah said, sitting on Lindsay’s bed. “Why didn’t you tell me he was mature, attractive, and not repellent?”

Lindsay and Lilah had decided to spend the rest of the morning locked in Lindsay’s room, looking at the remains of Lindsay’s wardrobe and catching up on the tumultuous year of lost fortunes, faked deaths, and other secrets best not heard by the rest of the family.

“He was married,” Lindsay said with a shrug. “Besides, last I talked to you, it was all about this Wesley guy. Wesley, Wesley, Wesley, the best lay in forty-seven states and four countries, shotgun and motorcycle and accent guy. With that and the Bluth Family Ban, it wasn’t much use to point out that Michael was a great guy. You and Michael won’t work out. He’s hard-working, boring, kind of a drag…really nice, but not exciting.”

Lilah groaned, stretching out on the bed and showing off how toned her stomach had gotten during the eight months in the Southern Hemisphere. Lindsay watched a little longer than was acceptable for appropriate for entirely heterosexual women friends, and shook her head.

“Come on, Lindsay,” Lilah begged. “I’ll be your best friend.”

Lindsay, pausing in her closet search for an outfit that competed with Lilah’s style perfection, raised an eyebrow. “You’re already my best friend,” she pointed out dryly.

“Best friends who go shopping,” Lilah said, waving an American Express platinum card in the air. “With the bills going directly to Wolfram and Hart’s corporate expense account.”

Lindsay’s head swiveled as she lasered in on the plastic card. “That’s a platinum corporate expense account card,” she said, hypnotized by the very shininess of it. “No limits, no questions, no door closed to it.”

“I saw a pair of sandals at Neiman’s that were calling your name, Lindsay,” Lilah said, platinum card being brandished like a weapon. “All I need is one teensy favor that’ll make your brother and your best friend very happy. And then there will be shoes. And shopping.”

To her credit, Lindsay **did** waver a little. But the lure of the platinum card and the pleas of her best friend, who Lindsay was very glad to see alive and as fashionably vixenish as ever, was just too much.

“One date,” Lindsay said, tossing her head. “The rest is up to you.”

Meanwhile, Maeby was regaling her cousin with tales of Lilah, whom Maeby was incredibly fond of. She viewed the lawyer as something as a role model despite only having met her two or three times, and in ways mostly inappropriate for their relationship. George Michael wasn’t so sure of Maeby’s enthusiasm, but couldn’t help but watch Maeby do her best Lilah imitation, complete with bouncing bosoms and passionate drunken fighting with Tobias, who was standing in for the part of Gob.

“And then Uncle Gob was like, ‘hey, I’m just saying that you two act like you’re closer than friends, if you know what I’m saying,’ and Lilah’s like, ‘you mean, we behave like family instead of the sleazy guy at the bar who’s like, ooh, lipstick lesbians! Take it off and get it on, baby! Is that what you’re saying, Gob?’ and Mom was totally pissed at Uncle Gob and was like, ‘yeah, is that what you’re saying?’ and Uncle Gob says, ‘Well, there’s not like there’s anything wrong with sexual experimentation in college, especially if it was a late night and substances were involved–‘ and that’s when Lilah just leapt forward and knocked him on the–”

“Maeby,” Tobias said nervously, noticing that Maeby’s fist was about to connect with his glasses. “Don’t say ass. It’s inappropriate for a girl your age.”

“Ass ass ass,” Maeby said, flinging herself on the couch. “Jeez. I was just trying to give an accurate depiction of events to George Michael, Dad. After all, that’s the key to any performance, isn’t it?”

“You’re asking him?” Gob asked, breezing into the house with Buster trailing along. Lucille had kicked both of them out of her condo that moment because she had a hot date with the resort tennis pro to discuss her forehand, and the last time she’d brought Buster along, it had been a disaster. “What’s going on? Where’s your mom, and why were you about to say ass?”

“An old friend of the Bluth family is back in town,” Michael said, walking into the crowded living room. “She and Lindsay are upstairs catching up.”

Buster perked up; Gob looked distinctly perturbed. “Lilah Morgan’s alive?” he asked. “I thought she got beheaded in an unfortunate axe-murdering incident and Lindsay ditched the funeral because it was too depressing to imagine Lilah not in couture. Or one piece.”

“She’s alive? This is wonderful!” Buster said. “I was so upset when she died. It’s great to hear that the news and the mourners and Mom were all wrong about that axe-murdering.”

Lindsay and Lilah entered the fray, clearly unaware there was a tense discussion going on. Buster nervously adjusted his shirt, and Michael realized that he was trying to catch his sister’s eye, too, vaguely interested in what Lilah thought of him.

Lindsey, however, was still busily contemplating the American Express Platinum’s limits. “We’re going shopping,” she chirped happily. “Hold all my calls.”

“See you later,” Lilah called afterward, waving particularly at Michael.

Maeby sighed contentedly. “She is **so** cool.”

* * *

Later that afternoon, a disgruntled Gob brought Buster back to the condo, where Lucille was enjoying an empty afternoon with a dry martini or six and a great deal of silence.

“Why are you back already? Couldn’t you get Michael interested in a game of Risk or something?” Lucille asked grouchily. “Buster, why are you so happy? It’s not good for your blood pressure.”

“She’s **alive**!” Buster said, half-swooning his way toward his bedroom. “In your face, Mom!”

“What the hell is he talking about?” Lucille asked Gob. “Who’s alive?”

“Lilah,” Gob said. “At least, she’d appear to be.”

Lucille made a face. “Wasn’t she axe-murdered by a jealous boyfriend?”

“That’s what the news said,” Gob said. “But she was out, about, and showing Lindsay a good time on her American Express card, if you know what I mean. And I think you do.”

“Gob, your sister’s not a soft-core porn lesbian,” Lucille snapped. “How do you think she managed to fake an axe-murder? I mean, I knew the bitch was good, but that’s a trick.”

It was at this moment that Gob had an unfortunate stroke of inspiration, in part fueled by too many days reading Magic of the Caribbean in a desperate attempt to get his magician’s career back on track.

“She’s a zombie!” he cried. “That woman’s always been burning with bad juju, but she all but admitted it today. She said she’d spent time in the Southern Hemisphere, and clearly it was with a voodoo — well, technically, voudou — priestess to restore her.”

“Gob, be serious,” Lucille said. “Though it would explain Buster’s fixation. What do you know about zombies, Gob?”

At that point, most of Gob’s factual knowledge ran out. Fortunately for him, if unfortunately for Lilah and Lucille, he had been watching a “Zombie Attack!” marathon on late-night television, and was more than happy to spend the rest of the afternoon regaling his mother about what Lilah was likely to do. Lucille, more and more distressed, finally shut Gob up in the middle of an anecdote from _Cannibal Zombie Queens Attack!!_

“It’s clear we’ll have to exorcise her,” Lucille said. “Fortunately, so far she’s only Lindsay’s friend and it’s no big loss if Lilah eats **her** brain.”

* * *

Unfortunately for Lucille, Lindsay was not the only Bluth interested in close ties with the cannibal zombie queen. Michael had waited for his twin and her best friend to finish chatting up a storm about their new purchases, and was waiting in the kitchen when Lilah finally descended.

“So, caught up with Lindsay yet?” he asked.

“Close enough. Hear one drunken antic, you’ve heard ’em all,” Lilah replied. “Though the cage-dancing was new.”

“That it was,” Michael agreed. “So, I understand you’re single these days, too.”

Lilah perked up. “Yeah,” she said, walking over to the breakfast island where Michael was leaning. “Irreconcilable differences. And you’re widowed. I’m sorry about that.”

“Yeah,” Michael agreed. “Are you doing anything Tuesday night? We could, ah, go out for dinner after work. Maybe drinks?”

Lilah smiled. “Sounds like a plan,” she said. “Meet me at seven at the Newport Club, okay?”

“It’s a date,” Michael said. “I mean, if you want it to be a date, it’s a date, but not if you’re not–”

“I am,” Lilah said breathlessly, leaning in close. “See you Tuesday, Michael.”

Of course, Tuesday took longer than usual to arrive, and by Sunday, Michael wasn’t sure if the date was going to be worth the trouble. First of all, Lindsay’s enthusiasm for Michael and Lilah’s date was a little bit forced.

“Oh, that’s great!” Lindsay told her brother. “She was telling me that she was interested in getting to know you better. Tobias and I should meet you guys at the club, you know, to make sure things are going okay.”

“Why wouldn’t they go okay?” Michael asked. Lindsay smiled brightly. “Lindsay?”

“No reason,” Lindsay said. “Okay. Mom thinks Lilah’s a savage cannibal zombie. One guess where she got that idea from.”

Michael sighed. “Does Mom know where I’m going on my date? Couldn’t you and Buster distract her? Or tell her that you heard wrong, that we’re not going on a date date, that it’s business?”

“Sorry, Michael,” Lindsay said. “Gob’s telling everyone. I think even Dad knows now.”

And indeed, Michael’s father was well aware of his son’s date, which he made sure to tell him six different times when he visited late Monday.

“Your mother tells me she’s a zombie,” George Senior told Michael, who groaned and shook his head. “Usually, I don’t put much into superstitions, but in my studies of Judaism, I’ve learned about a golem. So if she’s got a tattoo on her arm that looks like a gang symbol, make sure to wipe off the first level, because that should…dissolve her. I think.”

“Dad, she’s **not** a zombie,” Michael said. “And it’s one date! For all I know, she’ll be chased off before eight! Can we get back to business?”

George Senior smiled knowingly. “All business,” he agreed. “That’s where a good match is made, son. In the boardroom.”

Ignoring his father’s strange comments, Michael began to work with him on the latest legal documents. Meanwhile, Lindsay had just been offered the opportunity of a lifetime over fruity drinks.

“Public relations? Lilah, I love you!” Lindsay cried, hugging her friend impulsively. “Ooh, sorry. Forgot about the throat.”

“It’s okay,” Lilah said hoarsely, quickly swallowing from a bottle of water. “But no, I want the best, and you’re the best at coming up with esoteric charities. I mean, HOOP? Sheer genius!”

“Except for the Jewish Anti-Defamation League coming after us,” Lindsay said sheepishly.

“No, no, it’s all brilliant,” Lilah said. “I want more along those lines. Think of how many people in Los Angeles need help and don’t even know it!”

Lindsay thought about it, though she was also thinking about the full benefits, corporate housing, and five figure salary she’d be earning to start as Public Relations at Wolfram and Hart.

“This’ll show Michael he’s not the only one who can work!” Lindsay said triumphantly. “Oh, you’re so the best. Let’s go shopping for date-wear.”

* * *

Tuesday night at seven finally arrived; Michael arrived at 7:08 PM, after a final argument with Buster.

“Buster, this is a date. Since when do you come along on my dates?” he’d asked.

“But Mom–”

“Mom can take you to all the scary visual places she wants, but this is my date, it’s private, and you can’t come!” Michael announced, certain that Buster would spend most of the evening lurking outside the Newport Club nonetheless.

He discovered that Buster wasn’t the only Bluth interesting in chaperoning Michael’s date; Lindsay and Tobias had come to the Newport Club to celebrate Lindsay’s new job, and had coincidentally invited Lilah to have a drink with them.

“Michael!” called his twin. “Sit! Hear the good news!”

“Lindsay, why are you here?” Michael asked, looking at Lilah, who didn’t look happy to be sitting next to Tobias.

Lindsay grinned. “I have a job!” she said. “I’m the new director of charity functions for Wolfram and Hart PR.”

She raised her apple martini happily. Michael, who was impressed and slightly discomfited by the news, turned to Lilah. “Did you…”

“Only because it was a win-win,” Lilah assured him, brushing her fingertips over her arm. “Just one drink, okay, Lindsay? Then Michael and I are going to take off. After all, double-dating is so very much eleventh grade.”

Michael and Lindsay grimaced, remembering a memorable double-date in their senior year of high school where Brett, the hunky football player, and Lisa, the school thespian, had ditched them halfway through to make out in the bushes.

“Point,” Lindsay said ruefully. “So where are you two going to go?”

“No idea,” Lilah said, smiling at Michael. “We’ll have to get acquainted in the car, I guess.”

“Doesn’t sound horrible,” Michael agreed, ordering a drink from the waiter. “How was your day?”

Lilah smiled and set her foot atop his, scooting as far away from Tobias as she could and leaving Lindsay to have to pay attention to him. “Byzantine and overcomplicated,” she admitted. “I had a meeting with this demon of a client, who was demanding I move space-time so he could have a certain event on a certain day, which was impossible. Then my boss got involved, and ker-pow! Blood and guts everywhere.”

“That happened to me once,” Tobias chimed in. “Somebody had to have lipo in time for their twentieth high school reunion and…”

“Tobias, honey, please don’t finish that sentence,” Lindsay said, just as the waiter returned with the drink and Michael saw, out of the corner of his eye, the end of his date as he knew it.

“Lilah,” he said urgently. “We have to go, now.”

“Why?” she asked, turning her head. Her eyes widened. “Oh. We have to go, now.”

They both were half out of their seats when Gob made his grand entrance as Papa Zissou, master of the zombie. Wearing a short skirt that he’d been assured was Native American, a headdress of shells, and carrying a ‘staff of wisdom,’ the staff of the Newport Club hadn’t been sure what to do.

“Mama-say, mama-sah, mama-kouseh!” Gob announced.

Lindsay made a face. “Gob, what the hell are you doing?”

“Binding the zombie,” said Gob, pointing his staff at Lilah. “Admit the truth! You’re a vicious cannibal zombie who wants to eat my brother’s brain before seducing my sister into your evil ways.”

Lilah stared at Gob, not an expression on her very pretty face as she regarded the eldest Bluth brother. “Are you serious?” she asked, taking a step forward.

Blood spattered on her expensive suit jacket, thrown by a reluctantly drafted Lucille. “Back, zombie queen!” she said. “You’re not getting my Michael!”

“Mom, you’re making a scene,” Michael said, alarmed. “Please let me have my date. Please. I’ll buy you and Gob a new television, or new channels. Whatever you need to entertain yourself, just go before this gets embarrassing…more embarrassing.”

Lucille shook her head, and her shaker full of blood and feathers. “You stay out of this, Michael. This is between me and the cradle robber,” she said, facing Lilah with a sneer. “Don’t deny that you’ve entranced Buster. Look at him! He’s trying to get in and save you!”

Buster was trying to get past three Newport Club security guards, and Michael was watching his attempts to have a private date with an attractive woman circle the drain, even as the guard billy-clubbed Buster in the head and Lucille, with a loud cry, sprang to his aid. Gob, on the other hand, looked ready to attack, staff in hand.

“Gob, please don’t make me knock you down,” Michael said. “Seriously. Just back away.”

“That’s just what she **wants** you to think, Michael,” Gob said. “Think about it!”

Michael sighed, shook his head, and turned to Lilah. “I’m really sorry about this,” he said. “Can we go? I’ll take you home.”

Lilah looked at the staff-jabbing Gob, the pepper-sprayed Buster, and the belligerent Lucille. “That might be…oh, damn.”

Phone. Yeah, that was all Michael needed.

* * *

The phone was blaring, Lucille and Gob were at the ready to bust out the juju again if necessary, and Buster was being physically restrained. Michael had had worse dates, but none that involved chicken feathers and the blood of a pig sprinkled over parts of the Newport Club.

“Have you all gone insane?” he hissed. “How did Gob and Mom even know to come here, anyway?”

“Sorry, Michael,” Tobias apologized. “Gob swore that he’d use the voodoo truth spell on me if I didn’t tell, and that might violate oaths I’ve taken.”

Gob nodded, not looking at all penitent. “It’s for your own good,” he said. “Vicious cannibal lesbian zombies are often hard to spot with the naked eye.”

Lilah grabbed something, which turned out to be her phone, and gazed down at the caller ID before grimacing and tapping Michael on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I have to take this,” Lilah told Michael. “And then we can get out of here and go somewhere where people aren’t calling me a zombie cannibal lesbian over rum and coke, okay?”

Michael nodded, and glowered at his mother, sister, and brother while Lilah wandered off with her cell phone.

“Must you sabotage every chance I get for a nice, enjoyable date?” Michael hissed at his family. “A zombie? Could we get a little more absurd?”

“We’re looking out for you, Michael,” Lucille said. “That vicious harpy has Buster ensnared, and lord knows Lindsay was always a lost cause.”

Lindsay glared. “Thanks, Mom.”

“I still think we should try to exorcise her,” Gob said. “Now, while she isn’t–ow!”

Lilah grinned at Gob, moved her heel off his foot, and sat down, grinning wickedly.

“Great news! Angel’s days are numbered…literally,” Lilah crowed triumphantly as she set down her cell phone and kissed Michael. “I’m getting my law firm back, law firm back, law firm back…and when I do, the Bluth family’s going to find itself back on top.”

Lindsay and Tobias clapped cheerfully while Lucille and Gob continued to glare accusatively from their hiding spot at the bar, but Michael kept flashing back to the conversation between himself and his father where George Senior had hinted heavily that he’d been doing some corporate work for a special lady in Michael’s life.

“Congratulations, son,” George had said. “You finally found a girl who isn’t [BLEEP] and who’s got some nice legs, too. Pity your mother tells me she’s a cannibal zombie, but you’ve got to respect the work ethic.”

Until now, Michael hadn’t quite put it all together, but now, looking at the smile on Lilah’s face, things were starting to come together in a less-than-ethical way.

“I’m so excited,” Lindsay said. “How’d you do it?”

“That’s between me and my late night friends of the underworld,” Lilah said with a wink. This proved to be too much for Michael, who could only imagine the headlines when Lilah’s schemes were uncovered by the SEC or the FBI.

“Did you get business advice from my father?” Michael asked.

“Yeah, I did,” Lilah said cheerfully. “A little of this, a little of that…”

This proved to be too much for Lucille, who jumped up with her martini to make with the blatant accusations that had been on her mind since Gob put them there.

“Now this is too much,” she said. “First you ensnare my poor, helpless little Buster, and you always worked your magic on Lindsay…but my husband? That’s one step too far, Miss Morgan!”

“Yeah,” Gob said. “Stick to the lesbian vicious bitchery, because when you combine that with voodoo zombie cannibalism, that’s when you’ve gone too far. Especially when you’re threatening our family.”

“I haven’t threatened **anyone,** Gob,” Lilah said with a high-pitched voice. “But if you say the words voodoo, zombie, or lesbian in my presence ever again, I might have to show you what my cabana boy Jose taught me about emasculating a man with a salad fork.”

“Wait, you talked to my father?” Michael asked. “Who is in prison because of numerous SEC violations?”

“It’s okay, I’m a lawyer. I didn’t talk to him about the Bluth Corporation. I promise. It was strictly Wolfram and Hart related, with maybe a little hint about our upcoming date…” Lilah said. “You’re uncomfortable about this?”

Lucille and Gob stared at Lilah, who made a face. They then looked over at Michael, expecting him to perhaps say something about the part where the zombie cannibal lesbian queen was now taking Bluth Enterprises for a ride. Or perhaps just to point out she was a savage zombie cannibal voodoo lesbian queen. Michael pretended to ignore them.

“Uncomfortable? My father’s a convicted criminal,” Michael pointed out. Gob rolled his eyes. “He ran us into the ground.”

“Well, yeah, but that’s because he had **those** parasites attached to his sinking ship,” Lilah replied. “Look, Michael, I know that you’re worried your father told me to do something illegal, but it was simply good, sound advice. A little ruthless, maybe–”

Back in prison…George had been demonstrating how to jimmy open a lock without being heard for an attentive Lilah. “And you know all about destroying files, right?” he told her. “Because I know a guy in Van Nuys who…”

“But all perfectly legitimate,” Lilah finished. “Are you really going to listen to what your mother says about me? The last time she was sober, Ronald Reagan was the actor playing Governor of California.”

Lucille hissed. “You think just because you have voodoo powers, I can’t take you?” she asked. “Ask the last girl who tried to date Michael and give me lip.”

“I did,” Lilah said with a sneer on her face. “Come on, Lucille. Let me show you what the power of voodoo has done for me.”

Michael, at this point, despite thinking Lilah was entirely justified for wanting to assault the great majority of his family, decided it was time to step in.

“I don’t think we should see each other,” he said. “I’m not sure I can handle a girlfriend who uses pleasure to further business. I definitely like you–”

“But you’re afraid I’ll do something crazy after a year of craziness?” Lilah asked with some asperity. “Fine. Wasn’t really looking forward to being the zombie girlfriend, anyway.”

She stood up, kissed Lindsay on the cheek — “I’ll see you at the club, and talk to me about that job!” and left. Lucille and Michael stared after her, both boggled.

“That was cheating,” Lucille finally said, sipping her martini. “Taking the moral high ground. Sneaky bitch. You’re better off.”

“Yeah,” Michael said, dazed. “I guess.”

* * *

Lilah’s reinstatement as CEO of Wolfram and Hart, Los Angeles, had been a gala event, and the entire Bluth family was invited as special guests, as a sign of Lilah’s gratitude for their help. After much soul-searching, Michael turned down the invitation for the group, on the grounds that he wasn’t sure he wanted the Bluth name linked to a law firm best-known for internecine CEO murdering. What Michael didn’t know, of course, was that Lilah had expected Michael to turn her down, especially after their disaster of a date and his objections to her plan using his father, and had sent private invitations to the rest of the family instead.

Michael did not find this out until Buster had called from the hospital, explaining that he had a broken arm, two black eyes, and a dislocated knee thanks to the fight he had gotten into with Wesley, the former boyfriend turned co-CEO turned jealous enforcer. Buster failed to mention that most of the injuries had been inflicted by Buster falling down a flight of stairs to get away from Wesley, and Lilah and Michael had let that go.

“I feel awful,” Lilah admitted, walking up and down the hospital hallway. “He’s such a sweet, silly fool. Wesley carries two guns with him at all times and Buster announced that he was in love with me and he wanted to be my wife. Apparently Wes thought he said he was going to make me his Russian mail-order slave and there was a scuffle…is there anything I can do? Pay the medical bill? Send flowers?”

Michael grimaced. “I think maybe staying away from the family would be the most effective,” he admitted. “You’re sort of a bad influence on Buster. So far since you’ve been back, he’s gotten beat up twice, and jumped out of a three story window once. Not that I’m not very grateful for the legal services you’ve been providing and the career help you gave Lindsay, but…”

“I understand,” Lilah said with a grimace. “I’m sorry, Michael. I guess you can kind of tell from the faking my own death thing and the psychotic English boyfriend that I’m not the kind of woman who finds healthy relationships. But I really respect you for the work you’ve done to keep your family and your company together. It’s inspiring.”

Michael, hearing the sincerity in Lilah’s voice, felt guilty that he had been so rude about dismissing her invitation to her reinstatement. Buster had a way of getting himself in trouble, with or without insane ex-boyfriends with gun fetishes. And Michael had to admit that he liked Lilah Morgan as much as she liked him.

“Thank you,” Michael said, getting a little closer. “Look, Lilah, about the date…I’m sorry it went so badly.”

“Me, too,” Lilah said, smiling. “I like you, Michael. I think we have a lot in common and we could have a good time together.”

“Despite the fact my mother referred to you as an undead zombie succubus trying to suck the lifeblood out of the Bluth family?” Michael asked. “And the part where Buster might start following you around if the Lucilles allow it?”  
  
“If you’re okay with the fact that my ex-boyfriend is a axe-wielding underworld thug and I’ve done some crazy things in my life,” Lilah replied, getting close enough to Michael to lean over and whisper in his ear, “The room next to Buster’s is empty. Come on.”  
  
“What?” Michael asked. “You want to…Lilah, I’m not sure I’m comfortable about that right next to Buster’s room and besides, what if someone comes in?”

“Please, Michael,” Lilah said, kissing him slowly while undoing the top button on her blouse. “Consider it a down payment for what I owe you for being so nice to me.”

Michael, not used to having attractive, successful women executives beg him for sex without it ending in a fistfight between said woman and his mother, made a quick decision. “Okay,” he said. “Just…let’s not tell Lucille until we make it all the way through an actual date. And if your insane British mafia thug boyfriend asks…”

“We’re just friends,” Lilah agreed, attacking him with her mouth. “Right.”

The door to the hospital room closed just as Gob and Lucille rushed into the hallway, looking frantic. “Buster?” Lucille asked. “What has that zombie bitch done to you?”

“Mom, I’m okay,” Buster said from his room, the door to which had been open throughout the entire conversation between Michael and Buster’s one true love, who was just then showing Michael the joys of semi-public quickies in hospital beds. “But I think Michael might have fallen under her savage cannibal voodoo queen spell.”

“Oh, he’ll be fine,” Lucille said, rushing into Buster’s room and giving him a hug. “As long as you’re wearing your juju bag, we’ll deal with Michael’s little zombie problem later…”

* * *

On the next Arrested Development…

Lucille discovers that Michael is dating his sister’s best friend.

“You’re dating Lilah?” Lucille asks. “Michael, she’s a vicious zombie bitch with no scruples who used your **father** to commit corporate espionage and get away scot-free.”

Michael rubs his head. “She gave Lindsay a job as Wolfram and Hart’s charity publicist, and I think she’s responsible for Tobias’ new position as assistant to Funny Farm.”

Lucille blinks. “Oh,” she says. “When are you going to marry her? I think she’s clearly a part of the family already, and think of how happy Buster would be to have Lilah as a sister! Lilah Bluth has a ring to it, after all.”

“Mom, you just called her a vicious zombie bitch!” Michael cries, thoroughly boggled.

“Yes, but think of what I call Gob,” Lucille replies, tossing her hand in the air casually.

And Buster has a rematch with Wesley, the psychotic English ex-boyfriend.

“Really? Graduate school?” Wesley asks, passing an alarmed Buster a crumpet. “That’s brilliant, old man, simply brilliant. Is your sister by any chance single?”


End file.
